


Phckin Florist Androids

by LovaterCan



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 07:36:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18383903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovaterCan/pseuds/LovaterCan
Summary: This is just a little one-shot story I stole from this tumblr prompt https://cupidsbower.tumblr.com/post/145960730310/flower-shop-auNines and Gavin are sort-of really out of charecter and this fic is kind of dry. I'm just getting flower vibes on spring break, so here you go!





	Phckin Florist Androids

**Author's Note:**

> Someone needs to teach me how to format, I just spent 30 minutes fixing all of the italic issues. Anyways, thank you to everyone for checking this story out!

I took the stem in hand, turning one of the large leaves over and inspecting. No sign of the pesky aphids. I checked higher up, in the crook of the plant and a florette. Just as I was about to check down by the base, the door chimed its entry tune.

I looked up, a man lumbered in, face a spiteful grimace as he slapped a 20 dollar bill on the counter, “How do I say phck you in flower?”

A burst of a laugh broke from my throat, surprising me. It wasn’t often that I did such a thing. I looked over my pre-set bouquets and little potted plants. They were all designated for love and friendship and everything this man didn’t want.

I searched through my databases, coming up with an array of choices. I gave the customer a small, courteous smile, “I could custom-design something if you’d like?”

“Yeah, yeah that would be great.”

I delved into the back of the store, gathering a thin vase and a tiny envelope. I wrote down a list of things that would make the best forsaken bouquet I could come up with.

I started with large yellow carnations. I took careful snippets from the host plant, bundling three stems into three sections for a total of nine flowers, my favorite and lucky number, as well as my namesake. I adjusted the flowers into the glass hold. _You have disappointed me._

I edged in between the yellow flowers with lilies. This would be a fiery, warm-hued bouquet. The umber colors in the lilies blended nicely with the dark edges to the carnations. _Hatred._

 I gathered up white flowers, my meadowsweet and foxglove. They were tall and bold and filled in the space nicely, a rounded but sharp shape. Passive aggressive, just like the customer wanted. _Useless. Insecure._

It needed more. Something rageful and valiant, yet meaningful in a loathsome way. I looked back over the preset bouquets. A red one stuffed with geraniums. I could spare a few. I swiftly stepped over and took a couple slender, smaller flowers. They were perfect, a final sincere blossom. The nail in the coffin. _Stupidity._

 I touched it off with filler leaves, small butterflyweeds and wide-leafed pine. _Leave Me Alone. Pity._

I looked at it. The overall color was yellow, centralized around oranges and tips of red. White and green dotted vaguely throughout. A beautifully alluring bouquet. I took it to the front counter, where the man took notice. I watched as looked down at the basil plant he was holding and placed it back onto the wooden stand. He jogged up, a miffed look, “I didn’t think it would look that nice,”

“Glad you had faith in me. May I ask who this is for?”

He snarled at the thought, “Someone I worked with- My works weird, flowers and stuff have been going around.” He reached over and took the vase in hand, burying his nose into it with a soft, almost serene look. It was a strange expression on his harsh features.

He pulled away, “Phck, is 20 bucks enough? I only expected, like, a couple of flowers or something.”

It definitely wasn’t only 20 dollars, but I didn’t bother explaining it to the man. “It’s just the amount,” I lied, handing him the small envelope. “Would you like to write a message?”

He nodded, taking one of my pens from the communal holder and scribbling down a messy, _Thanks -Gavin_

He nodded in gratitude and turned on heel, stalking from the room with the arrangement held high after our quick goodbye.

I frowned at the smile left on my face and the twist of lying in my chest. I chalked the price-difference up to me being too lazy to find the prices of each individual flower and count them all out.

I pretended that I didn’t know that I was intrigued by the character, and hoped to see him again. I wondered if he knew that basil symbolized hatred.

As the day drew in longer, the rush of customers slowing dramatically, I received a text. It was from my predecessor, Connor.

 

_You work at a flower shop, correct?_

 

 _Indeed._ I typed, rubbing away stray dirt I tracked onto the screen, _Flower troubles?_

  _My partner received a bouquet of odd flowers today from a coworker. I was a bit surprised as they have a mutual hatred for each other. I was wondering if you knew anything about these kinds?_

A picture attached showed the arrangement I had put together earlier for the peculiar man. I debated telling my android-relator or keeping the man's secret. Like always, I wormed my way into the middle, _Well, that assortment could have a more foul meaning, but it depends on how you look at it. His coworker might not have noticed and just picked out whatever._

_Okay. Thank you Nines! I hope we can meet up soon._

_Yes, hopefully soon._

And with that, I clicked off the connection and shrugged it off.

I finished off my remaining duties for that day, general pruning and watering and humidity control. Sweeping floors and shelving stray items. The motions were on autopilot, just swifting through each action as I had every other night. The routine was a comfortable close for my day.

  


The next morning I found myself anticipating the scar-faced customers return. I knew the infatuation would be over soon, just a part of deviance, and yet I couldn’t seem to forget his strange order and Connors message. Maybe he would come back to buy another vengeful bouquet. Maybe he would purchase the basil plant he seemed to be considering.

I started my day by testing soil. I would be getting in a shipment of seeds tomorrow and needed to get a head start on preparations. I mixed together an assortment of soils and compost and natural fertilizers. I tucked my fingers into the combination, carefully placing it on my tongue.

I was flooded with information. Water content, acidity, PH, everything a plant could want or need was to my access. I adjusted some of the drainage levels with sand and tested again. Perfect for the lavender and penstemon I would be receiving.

In between concocting 9 more batches of variant mediums, I helped out one of my regulars, an android named Ralph. I brought out a tray of grafted succulents I had been growing especially for him, carefully testing the strength of the mutated rootstock.

He looked delighted at the sight, hands carefully slipping under the biodegradable tray, “They’re breathtaking, so succulent!”

I nodded, “They’ve been doing great here and should continue to grow steadily through the spring, and remember to be careful of the humidity levels,”

“Of course of course!” He placed a ten dollar bill, a crumpled five, and 4 quarters onto the counter, “Thank you!”

I returned to the solitude of the back room, setting out rows of labeled cups and filled them with the substrate. My ears remained pricked for the sound of the door and alert to website messages pinged on my computer.

I received an online order, a 15 dollar bouquet. In the ‘request’ box it had a short message, _Make it mean that I’m feeling vengeful_

My thirum pump gave an extra few hits of thirium. Was it the man again? Two consecutive orders with that command were rare, and usually not coincidental.

I set up another bouquet but kept it at the 15 dollar range. It mainly comprised of towering wolfsbane. The violet flowers hung slightly in rippled fashion. _Dislike for humankind._

I huffed at the symbolism, A flower designating to hating humans. It was perfect for human hate-groups funded by malicious androids who had been wronged.

I took in more violent flowers. The best I could find was the ever-sharp teasel flowers. I added an abundance to the bouquet, a razor reminder of pain. _Hatred._

Cyclamen flowers looped low over the high-edged vase. They reflected pink, a bright contrast to the bluish hues of the array. I caught sight of a ladybug speeding over one of the petals, placing my finger in front of it and letting the insect crawl overtop my nail. I relocated the bug onto one of my aphid-infested parsley plants. It would quickly get to work on eating through their masses. I returned to the bouquet and placed the last cyclamen. _Separation._

Candytuft filled in the hollow inbetweens of the array of leafless stems. _Indifference._

I placed the assortment into the online pick-up shelf by the door where the buyer could come in and quickly and leave. I went to re-check the order for when they would come and pick up the vindictive arrangement. I was surprised to see that the purchaser's name was H. Anderson and they would be here in 5 minutes.

I raced through the store in search. There was an extremely high percentage, 86 to be exact, that this bouquet was for the previous man, Gavin. I found my item, a single oleander, and snuck it dead-center of the flowers.

On the little envelope I wrote down a list of the variant flowers, underlining oleander. It would seem normal to the buyer, but would hopefully stand out the receiver, I made a beseech to RA9, Please let the recipient understand. Oleander was a warning. An admonition. Caution.

I was distracted by another order, another customer, another knocked and shattered pot.

I hadn’t noticed the foul bouquet be taken from the store. I sighed, my curious mind desolated at the lost opportunity.

I didn’t have time to do even minimal research on the H. Anderson. In reality, it was a blessing in disguise. I would most likely be bordering on stalker even if it was only intent curiosity.

I continued to plant my seedlings, transferring them into alternate starter pots. I trekked outside with trays of little delicate plants stacked up on my arms. It was nearly uncomfortably warm as I kicked the plastic flap over the greenhouse entrance, dropping my stock onto the low table.

I began doleing and organizing the variant plants over each wire stand. It was a peaceful night, crickets and frogs humming, a cool breeze alerting me to a hole in the greenhouses translucent covering. I made mindful work through the night, no need to rest. Being one of the most efficient android models out there, my battery was sufficient at keeping me going for hours on end, only requiring short stasis here and there before I needed to charge.

 

\----

 

I stalked into the bullpen, dropping my lunch off in the break-room refrigerator before making my way to my desk. On it was a small vase stuffed with an alluring bundle of purplish flowers.

I hovered over it, realizing it must have been the work of the strange RK android at the flower shop. The core was a deep purple, fading out to a vibrant pink. In the very epicenter of the arrangement was a single white florette.

I sneered at the signature of the little card. _Anderson._

On the other side was a list of the types of flowers used. I hesitated over the bolded, underlined section. It was the work of an android no less, neat and straight. An Oleander?

I ignored it until my break, returning from a long and hasty assignment at a red ice home. My knuckles ached at where the man had twisted my grip. I reclined in my office chair, stretching my strained shoulders and pulling out my phone. I decided some side-research couldn’t hurt and typed in Oleander into the search bar.

It took a long time to find what the phck it meant. _Caution._ My spine prickled, unease filled my shoulders. Caution? Against what, Anderson?

I decided not to take the warning lightly. The creaky old Lieutenant could throw a heavy punch if he felt like it. His meddling plastic pet probably figured out what the dumb flowers meant and now I was in for it. My thankful bouquet had depth, disingenuous and an unwarranted falseness.

It started as a joke when the RK900- top of the top android, best in the world, star executionary deviant police android- became a florist. A phcking florist. I would never tell the thing- the RK900- he had become the joke of the precinct for a good month or so, officers sending each other flowers and giggling like school kids.

I may have been resident a-hole at the precinct, but not against someone who wasn’t there to defend his honor.

Once the joke turned sincere, a _sorry you got shot_ here and a _thanks for helping me solve that case_ there, it became a common thing. Buying flowers was just general practice at central station.

Hank had saved me from a rogue bullet, and then from tumbling off a high-rise building. I resented the whole bouquet thing and now I was in debt to the Lieutenant. I knew I had to do it, but I would do it with my own hateful twist of passive-aggressiveness.

And now Hank would be furious. He took it seriously, the RK androids being sibling and all he too didn’t find the joke to be funny. An old, rotting, stick in the mud.

After work, I looked both ways exiting out the back of the office where I parked. I wasn’t surprised to see Hank waiting, face twisted in ugly dissatisfaction. “Reed, what the #uck? Couldn’t you be serious for once in your d@mл life?”

I let him square me against the brick wall, holding his gaze with my own sharp look, “No. Is that what you want to hear?”

His grip tightened over my collar, “Make it up to Connor and I won’t punch your d@mл teeth in.”

I shoved him off of me, no longer feeling like playing the game, “Yeah, see your btch-@s later.”

He growled, but didn’t pursue. Maybe Connor was helping him with his lame problems. Phcking lame.

I decided to stop by the florist. His eyes met mine as I stepped through the door. I pretended not to notice at first, some residing pride in my gut. The feeling went away as I walked by the basil, finding it still resting on the shelf. I took it in hand again, carefully running my finger along a leaf and pulling it to my nose.

I loved basil too much to be healthy.

The android called out after a while, “I have some starter basil if you’d like? It might be more interesting to you.”

I decided to take the android up on his offer, siding up at the checkout counter. I watched his gunmetal eyes dart over my face, lingering on my scar with his LED flickering yellow and then meeting to my eyes. I started after a second, “Thanks for the-” I searched, what was it called? “The oleander. Got me out of a black eye.”

“Really? I wouldn’t expect whoever to be _that_ angry over flowers?”

“Don’t put anything past the lieutenant.” I shuffled forward, “He’s been getting better, though.”

He blinked, most likely searching through his databases, “So, you’re a police officer as well?”

I shrugged, feeling strange at the conversation, “Yeah, a detective. How’d you think I found out about your weird flower clue? I don’t know floral-lingo by heart, y’know.”

He grinned, a snarky look, “I don’t know, you could have easily been plant obsessed. I’m surprised you figured out the clue, to be honest.”

I let my own pointed grin show, “You would've made a fantastic cop, RK.”

“Nines.” He cut off, “My name is Nines, for your information. And yes, I would have directly put you out of work.” He passed over a miniscule seedling, “You should be thankful I decided not to join the force.” His fingertips brushed mind, “Here’s a basil plant. It’s on the house if you don’t overwater it.”

I took it, something warm in my chest, a faint blush tipping my ears red, “Thanks, Tin. And who knows, maybe we could have been partners in another world.”

He seemed to consider it, “Yes, maybe so. I’ll see you again, yeah?”

I nodded, thanking the strange android and leaving the earth shop. I sat out in my car for a good minute, the little two-leaved seedling in my hands, standing strong in its soil. I wiped the smile from my mouth, what the phck was I doing?

I revved my engine and got out of there fast. What the phck did I care about the RK900, Nines, and when I’d come back?

I continued down the road, keeping one hand pulling my little basil close. I’d stop by in a week, it couldn’t hurt, could it? 

My fingers tapped over the steering wheel.  _This Phckin Florist Android is going to be the death of me._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the weird swear word things, I have a thing with swearing so I try to get around it. (What's Hank and Gavin without cursing?) It's strange, I know, but thank you for reading through it till the end! I hope you could enjoy this quick little story I wrote up!


End file.
